The Study of Ella Marie
by JessieOfAsgard
Summary: *TW for certain chapters* Running away from your past is a lot harder than it seems. Finding a new future is even harder. When Ella Hudson moves in to 221B Baker Street, she learns that the road ahead my not be as smooth as she had hoped.


Miss Ella Hudson grinned widely as the plane skidded along the runway. After months of tedious planning, she had finally arrived in London. A quick glance out the window told her that everyone's presumptions about England were true- It's always gloomy. None of that trivial garbage mattered to her, however. Ella was far more enthralled with the history and the impressive architecture than the weather patterns.

Single file, the passengers filed themselves off the plane. It was cramped, and uncomfortable; shuffling around with the other passengers. The heavyset woman in front of Ella fumbled around with her luggage, occasionally bumping into her. Ella ground her teeth together, trying to contain her anger. If it was one thing she hated more than anything, it was being touched.

Thankful to get out of the crowded plane, Ella made her way down the gangway, which seemed to be miles long. Her chest tightened as she thought about what would greet her on the other side of security. Was it as luxurious as it all seemed? Was it riddled with crime in the streets? Suddenly, a pang of fear rocked her body as she realized that everything she knew was left behind in Canada. All she had here was one family member. A single confidant, and that's all.

Ella wound herself through a maze of metal bars, slowly slugging herself- and her luggage- to the security checkpoint. The guards all looked stern, and foreboding. Each of them wore a neatly pressed black suit with a red and blue tie. They wore their somber expressions blatantly, and it was rare to catch one smiling. Ella approached a female officer, who simply extended her hand for Ella's passport. She scanned over Ella's immigration documents and peered over the edge of the pages, eyebrow raised. "Movin' to London, are we?" She asked, almost hostile. Ella struggled to keep her composure.  
"Yes, I'm moving in with my aunt. Studying human sciences at The University of London."  
"All the way from Canada? Quite a long way away from home." The officer replied, stamping all of her documents.  
"Quite."  
"Alright then, you're all set. Enjoy your new life in London." The officer said, handing Ella her documents in a neat pile. When Ella looked up from her hands, she noticed the woman smiling.  
"Thank you, madam." Ella said before shoving through the metal gates. The welcoming feeling that that officer gave Ella proved to be reassurance for the road ahead.

As soon as she breached the top of the escalator, Ella was greeted by a thick crowd of people. People of all ethnicities rushed past her, on their way to their next destination. Most of them staring down at their phones. Ella struggled to get through the mess of bodies without getting touched. The thought of so many people that she did not know brushing past her made her pulse accelerate at an alarming rate. Her fingers trembled and she broke out in a sleek sweat. She knew that what she had had a name, and she hated having a label attached to her personality. Social anxiety was a heavy cross to bear.

She attempted to distract herself with something more intriguing than human nature. She couldn't help but allow her attention to drift to what looked like a glittery wonderland. As she traveled down a wide corridor, she had glamorous shops on either side of her. The shops were full of luxury items, the likes of which have been seen on the wildly rich and famous. '_In an airport?'_ Ella thought as she felt herself gravitating towards the shop. A silver sign sat on the roof of the outlet which read "Harrods." She walked in, smelling the luxurious perfumes and seeing the Swarovski gems. '_Is London entirely posh?_' She wondered to herself. Everyone that she passed seemed to be wearing the most expensive clothes. Chanel, Givenchy, and Armani seemed to be the norm. Ella looked down at her own choice of wardrobe, suddenly feeling insecure with her choice in Wal-Mart brand sweatpants.

She sauntered over to the racks laden with clothes. A wide array of styles and materials graced the metal bars. Neon colors, and furs and lace all caught the eye, enticing Ella. Her first time in London? What's the harm in buying just a little something of the popular London coture? One look at the tag told Ella that the _price_ wasn't so enticing.

Leaving the store with empty hands, Ella made her way to the arrivals gate. What seemed like hundreds of people walked up to family members with smiles plastered on they're done up faces. As Ella lugged her bags through the hall, she was becoming desperate, hoping to find her aunt before anxiety set in. And then, like a beacon in the dark, there she was. She stood with a small white paper in front of her that read '**HUDSON**' in thick black letters. Her smile widened as she saw Ella approach her. Ella dropped her luggage at her feet and opened her arms wide. "Auntie!" Ella cried, feeling the warmth of family encompass her.  
"Ella! So good to see you. Now how _did _you manage to keep your accent all these years?" Mrs. Hudson asked, brushing the faulty blonde hair out of her eyes.  
"You know how thick my parent's accents are. I must have just kept it."

Mrs. Hudson smiled, her eyes wrinkling at the corners. She wore a purple floral dress that came to her calf, and carried a cloth handbag. So far, she was the most normal human that Ella had seen, and she felt suddenly comfortable. "How was the flight, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked, grabbing one of Ella's bags. Ella grunted as she lifted her bulky case off the floor.  
"Comfortable, for the most part. Food was delightful." Ella said with a smile, as she followed her aunt out the doors.

The air was sharp, and icy. '_Little odd for July.'_ Ella thought, lugging her case towards the black cab that her aunt had hailed. She looked up at the tall building in front of the airport, mesmerized. The intricacy of the architecture blew her away. She hadn't seen anything of this caliber back in Canada. The buildings-even the government buildings were relatively small. Here, it seemed like each building was an architectural feat. Just its sheer capaciousness was enough to astound her.

Small beads of water fell on her head as she walked out from beneath the awning. "Let me help you with that." Mr. Hudson said, taking Ella's bags from her. The bags were incredibly heavy, and Ella felt disconcerted allowing an elderly woman to handle her luggage. Although the bags were of substantial weight, Ella's aunt had no problem lifting them into the boot of the cab.

Ella took a moment before swinging herself into the car, to espy her surroundings. Cars zoomed through the hectic streets, people piled on every street corner, the wet air filling her lungs. She smiled, knowing that this was the beginning of something entirely new for her.  
"Baker Street." Mrs. Hudson called at the driver, as Ella swung her legs into the cab that was taking her to her new future.

* * * * * * * * * *

The cab came to a halt outside a quaint looking cafe. Ella gazed at it longingly, yearning for a warm caffeinated beverage. After all, she really could use it. "Just you wait, Ella. I'll make you a nice cuppa once you're settled." Mrs. Hudson assured. Ella grinned, brushing her light brown bangs out of her face. She was quick to exit the cab, not wanting to burden her aunt any further. She had a bag strapped to her shoulder, and two large cases flanking her on either side. She stepped onto the curb, following Mrs. Hudson to a wide green door with golden numbers tacked onto the front.  
"Welcome to 221B." Mrs. Hudson said, jamming the key in the lock.

The foyer of the building looked neat and classic. There were stairs that led up to a flat, and another staircase that led up to another. The wallpaper was grey, and seemed almost minimalistic. There was a small table leaned against one wall, and a painting encased in a feux golden frame. Traces of cigarettes and fresh Earl Grey lingered in the air.  
"Why don't we get you settled, and then I'll introduce you to John and Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked. _'Meeting people? Already?' _Ella sighed at the thought. She was hardly presentable, being fresh off of a trans-Atlantic flight, and would much rather sleep.

"That'd be nice." Ella spewed with a smile, despite her discomfort.

She trudged up the steps onto the third floor. Her aunt's flat looked incredibly warm and welcoming. A tray of muffins sat atop an Oak table in the kitchen. There was hardly an ounce of clutter anywhere that Ella could see, which was almost frightening to her. She didn't want to impose, and then mess up the place with her multitude of trinkets and paperwork.

She walked further into the flat, observing everything. Photos of children graced the windowsill, floral arrangements sat on different ledges around the house, rainbow sparkles covered the wall from the light glinting off the many pieces of glassware in the home. She breached a door and peered in, an empty bed with empty walls lay before her. "That's your room, dear." Mrs. Hudson's tinkling voice came from behind her. She turned and smiled.  
"It's so nice, auntie. Thank you so much for all that you're doing for me."  
"The pleasure is mine, dear."

Ella laid her cases out onto her bed. Two of them were loaded with clothes, while her carry on bag was loaded with garbage. She heard her aunt puttering around in the other room. Ella knew that she now had people to meet, which she wasn't exactly comfortable with, but was willing to do just about anything for her aunt.

Looking down at her ensemble, she was less than impressed. Her grey sweats, while comfortable, weren't suitable for meeting people. She wore a form fitting Oxford t-shirt, and was positive that her hair was less than impressive. She combed her fingers through it, and let it hang over the front of her shoulders.  
"Okay, I'm ready." Ella said, exiting her room. Mrs. Hudson was pouring steaming water out of a teapot and into two cups.  
"Oh, delightful. They'll be happy to meet you." Mrs. Hudson dried her hands off on a blue towel that draped off of her stove, and led the way out the door.

Cluttered didn't even begin to describe the utter chaos within the flat. Books and papers were piled high atop nearly every open space that the flat had. Coffee mugs in an array of different colors were strewn about, and there was a thin white sheet laying over the top of a chair.  
"Excuse me, boys, but there's someone that I want you to meet." Mrs. Hudson said, peering into the room. A small man came wandering out of concealment. He had blonde hair, which was graying at the edges, and as he smiled at Mrs. Hudson, his eyes wrinkled at the corners. His gait held a slight limp, which ultimately perplexed Ella. Before extending his hand to Ella, he adjusted the hem of his grey cable-knit jumper- which Ella determined as nervousness.  
"John Watson." He said, smiling. Ella took his hand and pumped it firmly, looking into his eyes. They were a brilliant shade of blue, with flecks of gold circling the pupil. Something about Mr. Watson seemed completely comfortable, and Ella felt elated at the sudden complacency of her nature.  
"Ella Hudson." She replied.  
"Oh," John began, waving his index finger between Ella and her aunt. "you two are related?"  
Ella nodded, brushing her bangs out of her eyes instinctively.  
"Yes," Ella began. "I've moved in with my aunt to study at the University of London."  
John stepped to the left, welcoming Ella in. As she stepped forth, Mrs. Hudson tapped her shoulder.  
"Goodness, I've forgotten to turn the take the kettle off the heat. I'll be right back." She said, rushing back up the stairs, leaving Ella with a subtle wink as she departed.  
"Where have you moved from?" John asked, hurrying to tidy up as best as he could.  
"Canada." Ella replied simply, nibbling on the chapped surface of her lips. She noted that a look of mild shock registered on Johns face as he toted the mugs to the kitchen.  
"And you've kept and accent?" John asked, returning, and brushing his palms off on his jeans. Ella looked down at the floor, suddenly aware that she was the center of attention.  
"Apparently. My parents had thick accents, and I grew up with that."  
John nodded, and looked awkwardly around the room, contemplating the next topic of conversation.  
"So, how was the flight?" He asked, his brow furrowed with intrigue.  
"Long." Ella joked. John smiled, relaxing his previously tense shoulders.  
"Can I get you some tea?" He asked in an attempt to be somewhat hospitable. Well, as hospitable that one can be in such disarray.  
"If you don't mind."  
"Oh, it's no trouble. Sherlock was bound to force me to make him some at some point anyhow."

An unimpressed grunt emanated from the kitchen. Ella peered around John, and saw a tall man hunched over a small microscope. He fiddled with the dials on the sides of the scope with practiced fingers. He seemed so focused within his work, yet so in tune with what was going on around him, as well. A skill that Ella could never master. Slowly, almost cautiously, Ella approached the island in the kitchen.  
"So you must be Sherlock." Ella said, eyeing his motions carefully. He looked up, his intense gaze burning into Ella. Once she caught a good look at his face, she swore that she had seen an angel. His eyes were a vivid shade of green. Slivers of blue swam through the irises, which became more pronounced as he looked into the light. His skin reminded Ella of porcelain, completely smooth and free of any blemish.  
"Is there anyone else present that might convince you otherwise?" He asked, his tone proving to be as condescending as his outward disposition. Ella's eyes drifted to Sherlock's lips as he spoke.  
If it was a game he wanted, then a game he shall get.

"Well," Ella began, propping herself up onto her elbows. "That lamp over there seems to have the same _wooden _personality as the mentally deranged man that I've heard _so _much about."  
Ella heard a throaty snicker come from John as he poured the tea into two mugs. A look of surprise crossed Sherlock's expression. Ella smirked before turning to face John.  
"Thanks." She said, following John to the living area. He gestured for her to take a seat in the- only- empty chair in the flat. He took the seat across from her.

Ella allowed the strong aroma of the tea waft into her nose. She relaxed deeply into the cushions of the couch, and took a long pull on the mug.  
"So, were you born in the U.K.?" John asked, sipping on his mug.  
"No." Sherlock blurted from the other side of the room.  
"Excuse me?" Ella replied, immediately put off by his intrusion.  
"You weren't born in the U.K. Your parents moved here when your mother was pregnant with you," Sherlock began, swiveling off his stool. "however your parents had lived here. Your mother grew up in Liverpool, while your father in London. You were home-schooled throughout secondary school, and your accent is most likely attributed to the thickness of your parent's accents. Your accent is very slight, however. Someone born and raised in the U.K. would have had a much more prominent accent. Now, your anxiety. Yes, you contracted it sometime during your adolescence. Your father was gone quite a bit, on business I'm assuming, leaving you feeling abandoned, causing you to feel awkward around new people. Your nails are bitten down to the nub, an excellent indicator for insecurity. Your lips are chapped, because you lick them often, which indicates even further insecurity and awkwardness. You have dark fur on your upper thigh. You have a dog at home, probably a German Shepherd, which must have been difficult for you to leave, considering he was your only confidant, since your mother was far too busy with her multiple lovers to hear you when you told her that uncle Billy had been sexually abusing you."  
Ella sat, completely in awe and in shock of what Sherlock had just spewed. She glanced to John, completely embarrassed that her entire life was just laid out for all to see. Her mind couldn't process a solid thought, as she watched the man before her act as though he hadn't done anything wrong. Slowly, he extended his hand towards Ella.  
"Sherlock Holmes."


End file.
